


Shadows

by yoursecretbattle



Category: Westlife
Genre: Band Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:55:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6251626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoursecretbattle/pseuds/yoursecretbattle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicky finds out the horrible news; the lads rally. Shane + Nicky centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> This is all my imagination and I mean no disrespect to the boys or anyone else. This is just a fluffly, hurt/comfort fic with the lads.

The airport is like most airports; uncomfortable. 

It feels like they’ve been here for hours now, and who knows maybe they have been. Shane’s too exhausted to care at this point. Another forty minutes or so and the jet will be ready to board. And then they can all get some rest on the six hour flight to LAX.

Shane’s resting his eyes, trying not to think of anything in particular when something sparks some sixth sense in him and he opens his eyes to find Nicky; standing now in front of the chair he was seated in for the last hour or so, his phone hanging from one limp hand, a blank, vacant expression on his face.

“Nicky.” Shane’s immediately on high alert; there’s not much that can make Nicky that still and quiet. 

Shane’s out of his seat now and moving over to his friend, placing a gentle hand on the taller man’s shoulder, trying to snap Nicky out of this unusual stillness. 

“Nicky?” Shane asks again. 

Nicky seems to come back to himself then and he blinks a few times as he snaps back to reality.

Shane shifts from mild worry to full-blown panic when a tear escapes the blonds left eye and tracks it’s way down his cheek. Followed by a second. 

Nicky spurs into motion then, flicking his face away from Shane and using his sleeve to mop away the moisture. 

“Ah… Mam phoned.” Nicky mutters quietly, gesturing with the phone in his other hand. “My Dad…” 

And that’s it. It’s all over. 

Shane can feel himself starting to shake his own head in denial; he’s immediately figured out what the blond can’t say, but he doesn’t want to believe it. 

“Oh shit, Nicky… no, he can’t.” 

Nicky’s eyes flick up to Shane’s face and Shane has obviously just vocalised what Nicky has been thinking to himself, over and over; because his face suddenly crumples, followed by his torso and Shane only just catches the taller man, bringing him into lean heavily on his shoulder as the blond heaves out a few broken sobs.

“I’ve… I’ve ah… I’ve got to get home. My mam…” Nicky backs away from him, wiping his face and turning away from Shane, trying not to appear lost and weak in front of Shane. 

The others have joined them by now and Kian doesn’t let him be strong for long. He’s the only one of them who knows what Nicky is going through. He just swoops in and gathers the other blond into a bear hug and Nicky collapses gratefully into it. 

“I’ll-” Shane stops to clear the tightness in his throat. “I’ll go get the flight path changed.” And Shane wastes no time making sure the three of them get Nicky safely back to Ireland and his family. 

*****

There’s a lot of red tape to get through to divert a plane; even if it’s a small private jet. 

Almost an hour has passed by the time Shane get’s back to the others. 

Nicky is seated again and is the picture of stress and anxiety. He’s leaning forward in his seat, his head in his hands, his whole body tense. Mark and Kian are seated on either side of him, both just slightly touching the grieving man; a hand resting on his back, a forearm pressed to his shoulder. Just keeping contact. 

“The plane is ready for us.” Shane announces quietly once he’s standing in front of the three of them. “Direct back to Ireland.” He clarifies. 

Nicky’s head lifts from his hands and the look he gives Shane is equal parts grateful, relieved and guilty and it almost makes Shane want to cry. Grief for Nicky’s dad aside. 

But Shane can do something for the last at least. 

He steps closer to Nicky and crouches down to be at eye-level with the other man. “Hey,” he says softly, “don’t worry for a second about the States, it’s your dad.” He says it, like it’s the only explanation the four of them need to turn around and go home; and it is.

Nicky stares into his eyes for a few moments before he nods and Shane is relieved to see the guilt has mostly disappeared. 

Shane doesn’t doubt it will be back, if not for the aborted trip to America, then for not being in Sligo for his father’s last days. Shane knows it’ll take its toll. 

Shane gestures with his head towards the boarding gate; behind which their jet awaits somewhere. 

Nicky pushes himself to his feet, with what looks like the last of his energy and gathers his bag. 

*****

The plane is small, but it has four recliner chairs and two full sofas and they usually all manage to get some sleep on the long flights.

Shane is the last on board; Nicky has seated himself in the recliner closest to the door, like he ran out of steam as soon as he entered the plane and found the first vacant surface. Mark is seated next to him and Kian has already claimed and stretched out on one of the sofas. 

Shane sits himself down on the second sofa, but doesn’t stretch out. He sits and waits. 

It’s half an hour later, when they’re climbing steadily to cruising altitude, when Shane doesn’t think he can stay upright for another second, when Nicky finally moves. 

Mark’s fallen asleep next to the blond and doesn’t notice him get up. But Shane watches closely. 

The slim man is clearly stressed, probably half-panicking about not being back home for his mother and siblings and he starts pacing up and down the plane’s small aisle; utilising energy he doesn’t have to spare. 

Shane doesn’t hesitate. He pushes himself off the sofa and moves to the back of the plane, pouring two scotches before heading back to place them both on the small table next to the sofa. “Nicky.” He says gently, as he steps into the taller man’s restless path. 

Nicky stops abruptly, inches away from plowing through Shane, and stares at the brunette, affronted.

Shane doesn’t say anything else, just grips the other man’s wrist and drags him over to the sofa, slumping into the sofa cushions and pulling the other man down after him. 

“Drink.” He orders and presses one of the scotch’s into Nicky’s hand. 

Nicky just sighs, frustrated and says, “Shane.” in protest but takes the drink nonetheless. 

“Drink it.” Shane replies, softer now. “It’ll help you sleep.”

Nicky raises an eyebrow, but he must agree because he takes a large sip of the sweet liquid. 

****

By the time he’s finished the drink, Nicky’s slumped so low into the sofa cushions, Shane is worried he’s about to slide off and the blond’s eyes are continuously threatening to close. 

Shane gently lifts the empty tumbler out of Nicky’s loosening grasp and places it on the table, before he grips Nicky’s bicep and pulls the slim man half on top of him. 

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but finally Shane is mostly stretched out on the sofa, with Nicky half tucked in front of him; the blond head resting against his chest, rising and falling with each of Shane’s breaths. 

It’s overly cozy and Shane knows the other man will probably be mortified when he wakes, but right now the blond is sleeping the sleep of the exhausted and grieving and Shane is so tired and comfortable, the scotch seeping into his veins, warming him from the inside and he really doesn’t care.

Nicky is a soothing weight on Shane’s chest and he tugs the slim man a little closer before his eyes slide shut for the last time and he lets exhaustion overtake him. 

End.


End file.
